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<title>the day's losing light by bronweathanharthad</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23289061">the day's losing light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronweathanharthad/pseuds/bronweathanharthad'>bronweathanharthad</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dunkirk (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:56:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23289061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronweathanharthad/pseuds/bronweathanharthad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With the evacuation of Dunkirk completed, Peter struggles to come to grips with the death of his friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>song prompt</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the day's losing light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title is from "As Much as I Ever Could" by City &amp; Colour</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With the men rescued and the last of the German planes gone, Peter found himself wishing their little boat was still in danger.</p><p>     Rescuing the downed pilot, the pilot who looked a little too much like his brother, offered him distraction from his best friend’s grievous injury. The scramble to get as many men on the boat as possible before the water caught fire forced him to put aside the news of his best friend’s death. The last-ditch aerial attack had him prioritizing keeping everyone alive. But now it was over. There was nothing to protect him from his thoughts.</p><p>     His dad busied himself by offering tea and conversation to the soldiers. He busied himself by keeping the steering steady. But the Channel was too quiet and his job too easy.</p><p>     They should have waited for the Navy. They should have made George get off the boat. They shouldn’t have—</p><p>     But footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Two tired, oil-covered soldiers appeared at the top of the stairs.</p><p>     “Stay downstairs, please,” said Peter.</p><p>     “We just want to see the cliffs,” said the shorter soldier.</p><p>     The sun was starting to set, but there was more than enough daylight to make out the surrounding landscape. Peter let the two stay up for a while.</p><p>     “Is that Dover?” asked the shorter soldier.</p><p>     “No,” said Peter. “That’s Dorset. But it’s home.”</p><p>     “We let you all down, didn’t we?” said the taller soldier. He sounded as defeated and exhausted as he looked.</p><p>     “No you didn’t,” George would have said. But Peter couldn’t bring himself to offer those words.</p><p> </p><p>The sun continued to sink. No doubt it would be dark by the time they got back home.</p><p>     He and George had seen many a sunset together. They watched the sunset after the funeral for Peter’s brother, and Peter allowed himself to cry after George assured him that it was okay to. They saw some sunsets over the harbor, but never at sea. George would have loved the sight.</p><p>     He shouldn’t have locked the door. He should have done more to try and physically restrain the soldier. They should have turned back the instant that George got injured.</p><p>     He knew what his dad would say if he gave voice to those thoughts. “It wasn’t your fault.” “You did everything you could.” “I should have done more.” But it wouldn’t have done any good.</p><p>     He should have been there when he died. God, he should have been there. His best friend was dying, and he missed it.</p><p>     There was a lump in his throat. He couldn’t afford to cry now. The fading light wasn’t dim enough to conceal tears. And he couldn’t let the soldier whose fearful impulse led to this see him cry. Peter didn’t fully understand what spurred him to lie about George’s condition, but he wasn’t about to let the truth slip.</p><p>     He felt a hand on his shoulder. His dad’s hand. “Are you all right?” he said.</p><p>     Peter could only nod. If he tried to speak, no doubt he would cry.</p><p>     “I’ll take it from here. Go get some air.”</p><p>     He turned away and wiped his eyes quickly before the soldier had the chance to see the couple of tears that escaped.</p><p> </p><p>Night fell as they reached the harbor. The boat had mostly fallen silent, for everyone was far too tired to focus on talking.</p><p>     Peter kept a distance while doctors retrieved his friend’s body. As they carried him away, he waited for the blanket to stir, for a doctor to ask the others if they heard something, for some sign of life, any sign.<br/>     His eyes strayed to the crowd. Among the sea of men he saw the soldier looking in the boat’s direction, seeing the stretcher. Their eyes met only briefly before the soldier turned away.</p><p>     Peter stayed afraid of the dark longer than most of his peers. But during the brief period when George was interested in astronomy, he taught Peter to appreciate the night. He wouldn’t look at the stars tonight; it would hurt too much.</p><p>     His dad eventually found him in the crowd. Usually they didn’t hug in public, but they made an exception this time. Peter couldn’t feel anything as they hugged. His eyes stayed fixed on the area where the soldier departed.</p><p>     His dad noticed his gaze. “You did the right thing,” he said.</p><p>     Peter wished he could believe him.</p><p> </p><p>He was home and in his room. It was safe to cry here. There was no one around to see him. The darkness was his only company.</p><p>     So he lay in bed waiting to cry. Wanting to cry. Angry with himself for remaining dry-eyed.</p><p>     But the shock was still too great.</p>
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